


Cookies

by wellhereweare



Series: Xanthe Layton Breast Expansion Fics [2]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Breast Expansion, Brief Belly Expansion, Companion/Sequel to Cream By 999blackflowers, Everyone Is An Adult, Lactation Kink, Luke discovers littling, Minor Stuffing, Mommy Kink, Nonbinary Knockout Luke Triton, Nursing Kink, Other, Trans Female Character, Trans Woman Hershel Layton, Xanthe Tops (Sometimes), cgl, hyper breasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27260575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellhereweare/pseuds/wellhereweare
Summary: While Xanthe is fond of her breasts, they can be a little bit of a nuisance. Then again, Luke seems to like them.
Relationships: Hershel Layton/Luke Triton
Series: Xanthe Layton Breast Expansion Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990408
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> I love Xanthe and, contrary to how much porn I write in general, one day I would like to write her actually figuring her gender out and beginning to transition. I like writing porn and the topic is too close to home at the moment, tho, so have porn instead :)
> 
> If you haven't read Cream, Xanthe, previously Hershel Layton, is a trans woman who began her transition in her late forties. She's largely retired, outside of writing and the occasional case. (At least at the moment) She's discovered a great deal of things she likes, but she's still figuring herself out. Luke is nonbinary/genderqueer, though neither of them have the verbiage for it. He still uses he/him.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> Breast Growth  
> Gender Contemplation  
> Early-Mid Transition Trans Woman  
> Male anatomical terms applied to a trans woman's genitals. She also tops  
> Mommy kink/ageplay elements

Luke was warm where he pressed into her back, as she tried to maneuver her breasts into her frankly massive nursing bra. She’s learned to do it one at a time, lining up her palm sized areola with the opening of the cup. The other rested low on the cold porcelain sink vanity.

“Are you sure you don’t want some help?” He offered with good humor, peeking over her shoulder as he traced his waterline with a brown pencil. “I don’t mind being a little late.”

“That’s quite alright. I’m already a bit of an obstacle this morning.” Luke had to stand on tiptoe to see himself after all, and while as far as she could tell he was something of an expert with his makeup, it made the process take even longer than it normally did. Anyway, she was physically able to reach the closure as of late.

“Not an obstacle, a challenge!” He chirped, kissing her cheek lightly as he reached for some concoction in his skin color. 

Xanthe picked up her other breast. It overflowed her hand easily and left a small pool of milk behind. Pressing her tit into place, her face pulled into a light frown. The breasts were something of a blessing, as well into her forties now she hadn’t thought she’d ever get them. The milk, however, was something of a nuisance, messy and constant as it was.

She clasped it shut behind her back as Luke moved onto his lips and tugged the straps up her arms. The way the weight hung on her body shifted into something more manageable, and she properly straightened her back. Light crackles rippled up her spine and made Luke grin.

“There we are.” She sighed, relieved. “I’ll be out of your way, my dear.” She sidestepped, careful not to upset his painting, and leaned in the doorway to watch him finish up properly.

Luke was always worth watching, beautiful creature that he was, and she loved how much more himself he’d seemed now that he’d freed himself from the gender norms that had been forced on him. After he finished with his lips, he set it all with a spray from the top shelf. He waved at it lightly, to try and set it. Playful, she pointed at him, keeping her face very seriously. He pressed his lips together as though trying not to laugh, and she stepped out.

It was the work of a moment to find his hat for the day and bring it to him, a pillbox hat with a handful of flowers. Walking through their home essentially topless was strange, but she was starting to become accustomed to it. There was little that fit her, and she’d only cover it in milk.

“Mean.” Luke grumbled from the doorway. He wore high, cream colored boots over a pair of black jeans that no longer fit her after her fat had resettled. On top, Luke had chosen a lovely long sleeved blouse in the same cream. His silk scarf looked like abstract watercolor, pink, cream, and black at the ends, and it trailed as he moved, feather light. The hat had been chosen to match it. “Do you need me to pick anything up on my way home today?”

“I’m alright.” She had her tea and her knitting, that’s all she needed today. She was hoping to get a few pairs of socks done by the time the weather turned. She handed his hat to him. She’d tried to pin one for him once and had, to be blunt, buggered it almost beyond repair. 

“Are you sure? I was thinking we could try a pump out, see if that makes things a bit easier.” He asked as he pinned his hat in place, high and angled precisely.

“Oh.” She hadn’t considered it at all. “Yes, actually, that’s a brilliant idea.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He kissed her cheek, just a soft brush so as to not stain her cheek utterly. “You can hook it up and give it a try, while I tell you all about my day.”

“That sounds lovely. Have a good day at work, my dearest.” She said.

“I will try.” His reply was long-suffering. “ _Rodney_ is working today.” They shared a tired look. A minute later, he was gone.

It was strange, being in the flat without Luke. It wasn’t necessarily an unusual experience, but it always felt a bit disconnected from the time Luke was home, as though one of them wasn’t real. 

Xanthe tidied. At least, she’d call it that, listlessly moving things closer to where they belonged until the restlessness that came from being alone settled enough for her to sit down with her knitting.

While she was aware that, theoretically, people had once read while they knitted, she had neither the skill for that kind of thing nor the coordination to try it with her chest being as it was. Instead, she flicked on the TV, switching through the channels.

A familiar big haired imbecile crossed the screen, and she found herself almost growling. Still, she considered it, before moving on. She wondered if perhaps it would be ladylike to watch a soap opera instead. They were intended for women home during the day. 

Was that a good enough reason to do it? Luke had started to drill the thought into her head. Was she going to let an outdated social norm define her womanhood?

A woman was weeping loudly about her fiance, now dead, and Xanthe grimaced as she passed it up. She’d had quite enough of that in her own life, she thought, settling on a cooking show instead. An older woman was talking familiarly in an american accent about italian food.

“This recipe for Brisket alla Vaccinara always gets a reaction! When I tell people about it, they always say, ‘A meat dish with _chocolate_ , what a wild idea,’ but you’ll find-” The woman went on, as Xanthe pulled her knitting onto her breasts to start. She supposed, from the outside, this looked very womanly. Her hobby, her viewing choice, but was she ladylike, leaking nipples exposed and the soft paunch of her stomach hanging over the waist of well worn sweatpants? 

Luke was more feminine than she was in many ways. He, at least, fell closer to the ideal she was raised with of a proper lady. Beautiful, of course, but fashionable and polite, he sometimes dressed for dinner in floor length evening gowns and make-up more suited to a night at the opera.

He was even a wonderful cook, she thought, as the woman on the television talked about what red wine was best for use in the recipe versus drinking with it. He described himself readily as “not a man, just Luke” and it was heartening for Xanthe, in a way. Luke was happy as he was, and she loved him beyond words. She could be the same, with him, she thought. Feminine in the ways that suited her. 

Still, she found herself setting her knitting aside to snag a pen and notepad off the coffee table. What suited her today was having a new recipe to try for her spouse. However, her heavy breasts made precision movement hard and quick ones impossible, so she found herself scrambling a bit. Something metal clicked when she knocked it, and she peeked, leaning to the side. A nipple clamp had fallen. She flushed a bit, leaning up. She focused on having everything down by the end of the show, but an idea was forming in her mind.

When she’d finished, she set the notes and pen down, and leaning as she had before, she picked up the clamp. It was Luke’s. Of the two of them, she tended to be more of a masochist, but he’d wanted to experiment and ended up liking them. He often wore them when he topped, describing it as balancing the sensations.

With her free hand, she pressed her breast in so she could reach the nipple more easily and clamped it on. The sensation was immediate and painful in a way that made her press her thighs together for a moment. She squeezed the tit with milk smeared hands, as though to force out more, and while she ached a little, nothing came out. Success, she thought smiling as she picked up the other clamp and put it on as well.

She rubbed her hands over her breasts, pleased. They felt tight, sensitive. Just running her fingers over the part of her nipples uncovered by the clamps left her gasping. She tugged lightly on the clamps and moaned. It was tempting to simply keep touching herself. After they’d gotten so large and sensitive, she’d actually used them to masturbate a somewhat embarrassing amount. 

She thought Luke might like to see her like this, though. Perhaps, she’d wait.

The hours passed as they always did without Luke, slowly and with the air of an unsettling dream. Xanthe got much further in her sock than she’d expected until she’d made a mistake she had to go back and fix. She was too engrossed in her show to be frustrated with it, setting it aside as the scenery shifted to an early spring scene.

As the narrator’s smooth voice spoke over it, both of the cubs she’d spent the last hour and a half watching, from their birth, emerge hale and healthy from their winter dens, and Xanthe burst into tears. She’d worried so badly for the younger sibling. He was so much smaller after all, even after gorging through Autumn. She wiped at her face, smiling through the tears. After what had happened at the creek, she didn’t think he’d had enough. She’d have to tell Luke about it when he got home. 

Now released from her trance as the credits played, she realized that there was a steady discomfort in her chest. Her breast had swollen considerably while she was distracted, and her bra, custom fitted as it was, now cut into her sides. Big, dark areolae bulged from the tips of the cups. The clamps had stopped the milk, but her breasts hadn’t stopped making it, apparently.

Trying to reach the clamps was harder than it ought to have been. Simply reaching didn’t work at all. She tried to squish one up a bit with both hands, but there was too much flesh to try to hold like that and reach. She even tried to curve one back a bit, pulling on the already strained fabric of her bra. Unfortunately, for as soft as they were, they were too full to be malleable. Frustrated, Xanthe reached back to try and undo the bra, hoping to at least relieve some pressure. After several attempts, it occurred to her that it was simply too tight to even unhook. 

She slumped back into the couch, trying to strategize. Now that she’d noticed the discomfort, she couldn’t ignore it or how sensitive her breasts felt. Even shifting sent a spark of lightning down her spine. Damned things, she thought, she was going to need help. A look at the clock informed her that it would be at least another hour until Luke was home.

Unacceptable, she thought. She’d have to figure something out.

* * *

Luke was running a bit later than he’d planned. Breast pumps weren’t generally made with someone like Xanthe in mind. It’d taken a bit of doing to get the lady to show him the really strong ones. Still, he’d expected to see her sitting on the sofa startled out of her reverie by the sound of the door opening. Instead, Xanthe stood at one end of it, her breasts having overtaken the sofa. One had spilled over, in fact, and wedged itself partly between the sofa and coffee table. She was leaning over the arm and reaching for her nipple with a thin pair of salad tongs.

“Xanthe?” He asked, and she looked up at him with slightly wild eyes. “Can you breathe ok in that?” Her bra, comfortably fitted a few hours ago, was visibly straining and digging deeply at every contact point. It had begun to fray in a few places, like it was only a few minutes from snapping.  
“I’m sorry,” She started, eyes turning back to her situation and slipped the tongs onto a side table. “Would you mind terrible helping me for a moment? I thought this might help with the leaking, but I’ve… perhaps underestimated my body.” 

He was tempted to tease her, but she looked embarrassed enough. She couldn’t even seem to stand properly, hunched in deference to the weight of her chest. He moved to unhook her bra. Four of the five hooks had ripped completely out of the seam, so he just tore the last one as well.

“What would you like me to do?” He asked, as she waved him toward the other side of the couch. He immediately saw the problem, one she’d let the battered bra fall off her body. Caught in his clamps were her dark, swollen nipples. Like the rest of her, they were larger than they had been before he left, and for the first time in at least a week, they were dry. 

When he touched one, a shiver went through her, and she gripped the couch arm in strong, blunt fingers. As he fussed with it, her jaw went tight, fingers clenched bloodlessly. 

“I’m going to have to yank just it off.” He warned her. “It looks like it stayed tight partly because the nipple got larger.” It had grown enough that the tips were as open as they were going to get, the nipple was just too large for the clamp. He set the bag with the pump onto the coffee table.

“Oh. Well, carry on, then.” She sounded a little dazed, and he could see how flushed she was from where he stood. He counted to three aloud, taking a firm grip on the clamp, and pulled.

Milk gushed out in every direction the second she was free, and Xanthe moaned low in her throat, head falling forward onto her freed breast. After a moment, the stream slowed, but she was still shaking. Luke could feel where the warm liquid spattered his face and began to seep through his shirt.

“The other one, now, please.” She rasped, without raising her head.

“In a minute.” He examined her breast carefully, running gentle fingers over her nipple as she jerked. He pressed his fingers into her breast to milk out a more deliberate flow. “It doesn’t look like there’s any damage.”

“ _Luke, please._ ” Xanthe lifted her head, face feverishly red. “Please.” She repeated, more calmly after a moment.

“Of course.”

He moved to the other breast, caressing the trapped nipple before he took hold of the clamp. He counted aloud for her again and, at once, pulled it away. Luke wanted to press his mouth around it, but he wasn’t sure he could drink all of it at that speed. Distantly, Xanthe was whimpering. He wiped his face with his dry sleeve, pleased to see it hadn’t smeared his makeup.

“That must feel better.” He soothed, petting the top of one distended breast and admiring the intricate blue lines of veins under her skin. “I bought the pump, do you think we should try it out? We could see about emptying you out. I’m sure that would be more comfortable.” When she didn’t respond, he fell back onto an old habit, filling the silence until she got herself together. “I think the lady that sold it to me thought I was going to use it sexually. I suppose we might eventually, but it’s hardly her business. I think it was about how I was dressed, honestly, so next time I go in, I’m going to wear the pencil skirt with red lips.”

“Luke, before the pump, I was hoping you might help me a bit more.” She said, quietly. “I need... Touch me. Touch my breasts.” Her voice was raw with need, and he could see it in her shaking arms. An idea that had haunted him since the beginning of he'd first seen her chest like this.

“Can you lie down on your back?” 

It took some doing, and Luke had had to move the table across the room, but eventually, Xanthe was laid out under her enormous breasts. Even fighting gravity, they were massive, larger than Luke himself was, he thought. Large enough, thankfully, that he didn’t have to work to press them together.

He did it anyway, as best he could, forcing a trickle of warm milk over his hands. Excitement sparked up his spine, and letting go, he pulled his cock out of his jeans with one hand. He considered himself well-endowed, but he found himself captivated by how small he looked against her chest. He wedged his cock between her breasts, enjoying how completely it disappeared. 

“Do you really think this will be fun for you?” Xanthe asked, distantly. It was almost impossible to see her. Luke reached for her nipples. He wouldn’t be able to lift her breast, so instead he pushed down on her areolae. The pressure made them both moan. . 

The sensation was incredible. She was so _soft_ , so _warm._ He felt like he could lose himself, tucked away safe in the endless crease of her chest. He couldn’t watch her face, so instead, panting, he looked at where their bodies were joined. He didn’t need to pull out, he could just push and push deeper, but he tried it, just to see how big she was compared to him. 

He looked like a child rubbing off on his Mummy’s big, soft chest.

Luke whined and worked himself harder into her. Her body jerked under him as she moaned and panted. It was hard to focus on her words, when he was lost in the feeling of it all, the scent of cream that lingered this close. He felt whimpers climb his throat, but he couldn’t push himself over the edge.

“Xanthe-” He even sounded like a child crying to his mother, he thought faintly hysterically. “I wanna drink. I want you to fuck me.”

He didn’t ask for it as often now, worried about setting off her dysphoria. It was beyond his control at the moment though.

“ _Please_. You’re going to have to do most of the work, though, dear boy.” 

He stood, tearing away his clothes, and then began working the knot on her sweats when she managed to kneel. He had to push her belly up out of the way, and they were tight, now, on her wider hips. He couldn’t get them far off, caught on a fuller ass and fleshy thighs. It was enough to get what he wanted, though. 

Xanthe’s cock was beautiful, silky and beading as soon as it was free. Luke spat in his hand and smeared it over, enjoying how she twitched.

“Lay down for me, darling.” She directed him, slowly moving between his legs. The weight of her chest came down on him, trapping him in place as she settled between his thighs wide. She pressed in slow, sending a bright burn up his spine. Luke whined and grabbed desperately at her chest until he could pull a puffy nipple into his mouth. 

The flood of milk, warm and sweet, and the feel of her sinking into him, worked together to send him deeper into the place in his head that had been calling him since he saw his cock dwarfed against her. He clung to her, suckling ravenously.

The pace she set was slow but intense, using her tight grip on his hips to force herself as deep into him as she could get with each thrust. Her broad hips were too wide for him to lock his ankles behind her when he wrapped his legs around her, but his thin legs sunk into her. She jerked against him, falling forwards and forcing the nipple out of his mouth when her enormous chest completely engulfed him. She became his entire world in a moment.

“My darling,” She groaned deeply, her resonant voice vibrating through him as she started to move faster inside of him. Her darling, he wondered deliriously. 

“Mommy, more,” Muffled by her breast, it ripped out of his throat. He felt her chest pulse against him, a soft jolt. “Mommy, Mommy _please_.” He mewled, writhing what little he could, crushed as he was by her breasts. Each time, that soft jolt went through them.  
“Oh dear,” She said distantly, stopping, and Luke blinked his eyes open. He couldn’t see anything now, even the barest glimmer of light had been blocked out by her breasts. They’d gotten bigger somehow.. “That’s mysterious.” Luke whined. 

“ _Mommy, please._ ” He managed to get out clearly. It didn’t matter to him why they were bigger. It was enough to enjoy them, heavy and still swollen with milk. What bothered him much more was that Mommy had stopped making him feel good. 

“I’m sorry, my love.” Mommy said, after a long moment. “I haven’t been paying enough attention to you, have I?”

“Pleath, Mommy, I wanna drink.” He lisped, mouth dragging against her sensitive skin. He nuzzled against her, searching sightlessly for one of her nipples. She shivered and shifted, the other tit sliding over his face until he could feel a nipple, bigger around than his thumb, brush over his lips. Luke latched on, drinking greedily, as Mommy started to move inside him again.

“That’s it, my love.” She cooed. “Aren’t you just darling?” Her hips crashed into his harder, and he shook. She kept talking to him, voice low and loving, but he couldn’t make sense of the words. The only things in the world were the weight of her, the taste of milk on his tongue, and the searing friction of her cock.

It was too much. He unraveled, splattering her with come and clinging to her as she chased her own end. His legs twitched where they dimpled her sides, but he didn’t let go, couldn’t ask her to stop. His mouth was tightly fastened onto her breast. His belly was so full that it sloshed a little as she fucked him, but he couldn’t stop, dazed and sleepy.

She finished inside of him, filling him the rest of the way as she moaned. Instead of pulling out, she slumped over him. They laid together like that for a while as Luke fed and dozed, her thick fingers tracing letters onto his faintly ballooning belly.

Finally, she pulled away. He ached faintly when she pulled out and wanted nothing more than to tuck himself back into her chest. Even as a child, he couldn’t remember feeling this vulnerable.

“Come on, then, my dear.” She said, congenially, when she managed to heft her breasts onto the sofa. “This might be a bit more comfortable.”

Luke stood slowly. He felt like a fawn, balancing on weak, wobbly legs as he stumbled to the sofa. He helped her settle her breasts on the table so she could sit upright. They were much larger than they had been when he’d walked in and an order of magnitude larger than they had been when he left the house.

“The pump is on the table.” He said, hoarse. “Do you want me to give that a try?”

“That’s probably for the best, dear boy.” She said fondly, and he set to work trying to figure out how to make it fit her.

**Author's Note:**

> One day, I wanna write her working on her car because it's sexy, but also because she still loves her car.


End file.
